Worst Week

This is an abbreviated Sharon Kurzy description of my week. If you've met my mother you will understand what I mean. I'll understand if you decide not to read it.

Monday:

• George wakes up with poopy diaper and proceeds to poop himself two more times within an hour. I stay home from work and try to get some work done while George watches Barbie movies and Thomas the Tank Engine movies. George grows bored easily and does not poop again, but is still raspy with a cough. I call the doctor and confirm that his poop is a side-effect of the antibiotic he has been on to clear his congestion, but the congestion did not clear. The doctor calls in a prescription for more antibiotic (a different one) which will result in prolonging the pooping phenomenon.

• I wrap up all the Valentine's gifts and projects, except for getting a gift for my dear husband.
• I receive news that my friends must decide whether to take their child off of life support. I try not to bawl too much in front of the kids.
  

Tuesday:

• I receive a heart-shaped box of chocolates from my three wonderful children and husband. Courtesy of television commercials, Luke is convinced that "it is the only way to say 'I love you.'"

• I've convinced George's school that he can come in if he wears diapers so that it isn't too much trouble for them. Praise the Lord, I might get some work done.
• As we rush around getting ready for school (after opening the Valentine's gifts), George manages to get himself under Chuck's feet, causing Chuck to pirouette in the hall way, nearly fall down, and knock down a picture frame in the process. Chuck avoids stepping on George, but the corner of the picture frame lands on George's finger and cuts the top side. Screaming ensues, and we know it hurt really bad. I take George to school and his finger has begun to turn purple by the time I drop him off. I ask the dear people at his school to keep an eye on his finger.
• I receive word that my friend's child passed away the night before. I bawl in my office intermittently.
  
• Around10:45, I receive a phone call that George's finger has swollen even more, is a darker shade of purple, and difficult to bend. I take George to the doctor where we have x-rays taken. There is no break, but the finger looks disgusting. Dr. Murphy puts it in a finger bandage and sends us on our way after giving George a toy from his special toy stash.

• I return to work. I get very little accomplished.
  
• At 1:30 I leave work to attend Luke's Valentine's Day party because I am his room mom along with a friend of mine. I show up with the napkins. My feet hurt, and while my friend conducts musical chairs and the rest of the party, I sit in the corner and watch while I rest my feet. I decide for the 115th time that I will never volunteer for homeroom mom again.
• I go back to work and put my nose to the grindstone.
• At 6:20, I realize I am 20 minutes late for my Valentine's date with my husband. I rush to see him and spend the evening with my favorite person in the whole world. I never had a chance to get him a present. He bought me a pearl necklace and earrings.
  

• I am so in love.

Wednesday:

• I cry some more about my friend's loss.
• I work.
• I cry a few more tears as I read his caring bridge journal.
• I work.
• At 4:30, I get the text that Evie is sick.

• I rush home to get her. She has a fever of 102.8. We go to the doctor at 6:30. Our nanny watches the boys because Chuck is at an executive meeting. Evie vomits while we wait at the night clinic. We get a prescription, but there is no real diagnosis of Evie's ailment. She's coughing, sore throat, fever, tummy ache, vomiting. No strep throat as I was hoping because at least it is treatable. Probably a virus but we get antibiotics for her cough. The vomiting is apparently a side effect of the high fever and she feels better when the Tylenol kicks in.

• I get the kids to bed and then I work until 11:30.
• I go to bed. Chuck comes home. I hear Evie coughing in her bedroom and rush in to find her vomiting on her pillow and bed. We clean stuff up, and I spend the night sleeping next to her with only a vomit bowl in between us, except when she woke up to vomit.

Thursday:

• Chuck wakes up sick with a head cold. I barely wake up because I'm exhausted. I take the boys to school while Chuck stays with Evie who is feeling better.
• Once at work I discover that I missed a nail when I tried to take off my nail polish this morning. Really?

• I work. I miss lunch because I leave at noon to attend the funeral for a sweet little boy. The child-sized casket at the front of the church kicked me in the gut. The tears start leaking before the service is even close to beginning. The service begins and they sing "Jesus Loves Me". I can't breathe and my head hurts from trying to hold in the tears. The service is brief, powerful, and finalizing. I never want to attend a child's funeral again.
• I return to work and work - trying to catch up. I may never catch up again.
• I finally get hungry and eat what I call the Lunch of Champions.

• I made it home to find out that Luke allegedly cheated on a timed test by finishing three questions after the teacher said stop. My heart sinks. Why can't this be easier? Why must there always be an issue?
• We put the kids to bed. Evie has a fever of 103.5. More medicine and somebody has to stay home with her again.
  

Friday

• We sit at home watching princess movies. Will this be the end of the worst week in recent history, or will there be more?